The scars I feel when I run my hand down my arm,
The cuts, the memories, the pain, the suffering
Everything comes running back,
Everything swarms in,
Reminding me of the past

But now I look at them
And say im proud of my past
Proud of the women I am becoming
And 1 year ago,
And would cry and cry hoping to accept myself
But now here I am learning to live with the past
And to a brighter future.